


Dropping The Anvil

by Dolimir



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-25
Updated: 2011-05-25
Packaged: 2017-10-19 18:44:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/204072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dolimir/pseuds/Dolimir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Will Turner?” one of the pirates in front of him asked in shock. “Not *the* Will Turner?”<br/>“Well, I do not know if I am *the* Will Turner, but I am certainly *a* Will Turner.”<br/>“Do ye or do ye not know a Jack Sparrow?”<br/>“Aye. I know Captain Sparrow.”<br/>The captain had lowered his pistol. “Well, bullocks.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dropping The Anvil

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [【翻译】Dropping The Anvil 掷下铁砧](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2118705) by [lightasagi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightasagi/pseuds/lightasagi)



Will Turner was having a bad week; there was no getting around that fact. He always suspected that one day Mr. Brown would drink himself to death, he was just vexed by the fact that Mr. Brown had managed to burn the smithy to the ground in the process. Will had lost everything in the fire, including his inventory of swords. Everything, that is, except his anvil.

As he had been making payments to Mr. Brown to purchase the smithy -- which was now nothing more than an expensive heap of ash -- he was practically penniless.

Again.

This turn of events was made worse by the fact that his wedding to Elizabeth was only six weeks away. Elizabeth had been incredibly understanding, but when she suggested he speak to her father about employment, his hackles had risen unexpectedly.

No, despite Jack’s teasings, he was not a bloody eunuch. He was a man and he would find a way to provide for them.

He had spent the next two days speaking with every one he knew, and dozens of people he didn’t, but no one needed a smithy. He suspected that Commodore Norrington had a hand in making things more difficult than they needed to be. While the Commodore had been gracious in withdrawing his bid for Elizabeth’s hand, his concession apparently did not mean he was completely out of the game.

With his last few silver coins, Will purchased passage for himself and his anvil on the frigate _Colossus_ , bound for Tortuga. While the thought of working in Tortuga was not a pleasant one, he knew that a sober, hard-working smithy could make a fortune in a very short amount of time.

He didn't ask Elizabeth to wait for him. Although the sight of her still made his heart beat hard in his chest, he wasn't so blind that he couldn’t see her distress those few times she had visited him at the smithy. To marry for love was all very romantic, but the practical side, for the daughter of the Governor, was a little more…earthy than she had no doubt imagined. While he still held on to the slim hope that she would wait, he would not press her for a promise. After all, the Commodore was not the only one who could be graceful under pressure.

Given the way his week was unfolding, he supposed he should have been expecting a pirate attack. But he hadn’t. So he had found himself on the bow of the ship, holding four pirates at bay with a shoddily made sword he had taken off one of the dead crewmen.

The captain of the pirates had deemed enough time wasted on him and had appeared to have every intention of shooting him dead. “I would have your name, lad,” the captain bellowed.

Will never took his eyes off of the pirates in front of him. “I am Will Turner.”

“Will Turner?” one of the pirates in front of him asked in shock. “Not _the_ Will Turner?”

“Well, I do not know if I am _the_ Will Turner, but I am certainly _a_ Will Turner.”

“Do ye or do ye not know a Jack Sparrow?”

“Aye. I know Captain Sparrow.”

The captain had lowered his pistol. “Well, bullocks.”

For a few minutes, Will had thought his luck might be turning around. While his association with Jack hadn’t really been something he would brag about in polite company, it appeared to be a good name to drop in the company of rascals and scallywags. However, it being a Wednesday, he should have realized his week was far from over.

Twenty minutes later, he found himself in a small dinghy, with three bottles of rum and his anvil, and landfall nowhere in sight.

He had definitely had better weeks.

Between the gentle rocking of the waves and the heat of the afternoon sun, Will was lulled to sleep.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

He had no idea what jolted him out of his sound slumber, but as he opened his eyes he couldn’t help but be awed by the majesty of the night sky above him. The moon shone bright and full, giving the ocean around him the look of molten lead.

Will struggled to sit upright and was surprised to find that he wasn’t alone in the boat.

“Am I still dreaming?” he asked aloud.

Captain Jack Sparrow grinned at him from the prow. The moonlight gave him an ethereal, almost fey, look.

“Could be. With the night caressing you like a lover, why would you want to awake?”

Will snorted without humor. “It's definitely more comforting than the nightmare my life has been of late.”

“Hard day?”

“Hard week.” Will shrugged. “Hard life.”

They sat in silence for several minutes, neither one feeling the need to speak.

“Do ye often travel with an anvil?” Jack asked.

“Do you often haunt people’s dreams?”

“More than ye’d ever suspect, my lad.”

“Fair enough.”

Jack stretched his feet out in front of him and put them on the anvil. “Ye don’t seem particularly surprised to see me.”

Will smiled for the first time. “I suppose I’m not. All I have in this world at the moment is this anvil and three bottles of rum.”

“Rum? Ye have rum, lad?”

Will continued to speak as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “So, of course, I am not surprised when my mind conjured you up to drink my liquor.”

“Perhaps yer mind knows that one should never drink alone.”

Leaning forward, Will picked up a bottle of rum and tossed it to his ghost, then picked up the second one, pulled out the stopper and took a large swig.

“Let it never be said that ye aren’t a gracious host even in the direst of times.” Jack saluted him, then pulled the stopper out of his own bottle.

“Gah!” Will put both of his feet on the bottom of the dinghy and leaned forward as he coughed harshly several times.

“Ah, good stuff.” Jack grinned and hit his chest once. “It’ll put hair on yer chest.”

“Wonderful,” Will said beneath his breath.

Jack leaned back, his elbows resting on both sides of the boat and considered Will for several moments. “Yer sails are all twisted in the crosswinds.”

“Great. A cryptic dream. Could my life get any better?”

Jack ignored his comment. “Yer torn between your destiny and yer past.”

“And just what would you know of my destiny?” Will deliberately took another swig of rum and squeezed his eyes tightly shut as the liquid burned its way to his stomach.

“I know the sea calls to ye.” Jack dipped his hand into the ocean. “I know the night calms yer soul.” The hand waved expansively toward the sky, flinging bits of water around the small boat. “I know ye weren’t horrified to find me in your dinghy. Why do ye suspect that is?”

“Are you implying that you're a part of my destiny or that I am destined to be a pirate?”

“Same thing really.”

“Because my father was a pirate?”

“No.” Jack leaned forward, putting his feet on the bottom of the boat and his elbows on the anvil in front of him. He took a swig of rum and grinned again at Will. “Because yer breath caught in excitement as ye fought Barbosa’s men, because ye long for a life where ye answer to no one, where ye’re a free man not bound to the land or other people’s expectations.” Jack dropped his arms and patted the anvil. “This anvil represents yer past and I represent yer future.”

“My future as a pirate?”

“Yer future as a free man.”

“I--”

Jack crawled forward and sat on the anvil, his knees almost touching Will’s. “Why have ye conjured me, Will Turner?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“Ye do know,” Jack countered. “Speak the words under the stars, Will, and they will come true.”

Will swallowed hard. Would it hurt to speak the words? Given his week, he wasn’t going to live to see Tortuga. Would it hurt anything to say the words just once before he died of exposure and dehydration?

“I suspect…”

“Yes?” Jack prompted.

“I suspect I want you.”

Jack smiled proudly at him. “That wasn’t so hard, now was it, lad?”

“No, I suppose not.”

“So what are ye going to do about yer suspicions?”

Will shrugged. “Nothing, as I suspect I shall die sometime tomorrow of exposure.”

“And if ye didn’t?”

“Then perhaps the day after that.”

“Ye’re being dense, lad.”

“Am I?”

“Aye.” Jack took a swig of rum and set it on the bottom of the boat. “Are ye or are ye not willing to drop yer anvil and reach out for what ye want?”

Was he? He smiled and copied Jack’s actions. “Why not?” he whispered. “It’s my dream, after all.”

He reached forward, cupped his hand behind Jack’s head and pulled the pirate close enough so he could brush his lips over Jack’s. The pirate offered no resistance, opening his mouth to Will’s probing tongue. Will needed no other encouragement and delighted in his explorations of tastes and sensations. It wasn’t until he felt Jack’s hardness against his leg that reality crept into his conscious thought.

“This isn’t a dream, is it?”

“It can be, if ye prefer,” the pirate answered quietly.

Will could feel Jack’s gaze upon his face. Go back to the anvil or fulfill his destiny? There was no contest. Reaching up, he ran his hands along Jack’s lean flanks.

“No regrets?” Jack asked softly.

“Pirate,” Will answered smugly, then embraced his destiny.


End file.
